


N00b in the Network

by Chyme



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Awkward Crush, Established Relationship, He is just not ready to deal with Ai, M/M, Poor poor Shima, Possibly Post-Canon, but who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyme/pseuds/Chyme
Summary: Shock of all shocks - Shima Naoki finds Fujiki Yusaku in the VRAINS network. And what's a guy to do but give his friend some much-needed advice?





	1. Chapter 1

Shima stares goggle-eyed at the sight before. Fujiki, Fujiki Yusaku, is standing in the Vrains network quite casually, as though he belongs there. Worse, he hasn’t made any single alteration to his avatar, not to his hair or his eyes, and of course, here’s his most criminal offence – _he’s kept himself stuck inside his school uniform._

Why anyone would want to come here, unfiltered, advertising themselves as an ordinary high school student is beyond Shima’s grasp. Dimly, he considers the fact that maybe this isn’t Yusaku, that maybe it’s someone posing as him, having stolen his identity to play with for perhaps malicious reasons. On the other hand, Shima knows Fujiki is a technologically inept bumbler, so much so, that he probably skipped all the tutorial menus when first logging in and didn’t even realise that he _could _change his avatar.

Shima shakes himself. What is he waiting for? It’s obvious Fujiki needs the guidance of a friend, a good one, someone who actually knows what he’s doing. Grimly, he starts to stride up to the poor guy, when there’s a blur of purple and black motion sweeping out before him and Shima blinks, his sight eclipsed for one stray second by the unfurling of an unnecessarily dramatic cloak. Then time moves forward again and Shima is greeted with the sight of a dazzlingly attractive man, possibly even prettier than Playmaker, stalking his way over the cobbled main street to wrap his arm around Fujiki’s elbow.

‘Yusaku,’ he practically coos, right into the space of Fujiki’s ear – any closer and his lips would be touching skin, digitalised skin, sure, but in _here_, where sensation can still be mapped out and felt, what’s the difference between that and a real-world kiss? ‘You better start coming back to life, we have a _guest_.’

He flashes a sharp grin over at Shima, something slightly predatory about the gleam in his eyes and for one uncomfortable moment, Shima is reminded of that horror movie his Mom told him not to watch, featuring a villain with the exact same expression.

Fujiki, who has been busy frowning over a pop-up hologram advertising…something, Shima didn’t really care what, blinks and stares round. And to Shima’s ever-lasting surprise, does not immediately frown, throw out a cutting remark and slip free of the arm looped round his. He doesn’t exactly relax into the gesture either…but still…the sight of it…

Fujiki Yusaku. Standing in the Vrains. Arm-in-arm with a boy. A gorgeous one. Something about this does not compute.

Fujiki meanwhile has turned his face to him, a dim light of recognition flaring briefly in his eyes, before his face once again turns blank and he says, in his customary monotone: ‘who are you?’

Straightening abruptly, Shima takes another step and points a finger straight at Fujiki. And man oh man, is it gratifying to look down on him for once! ‘Don’t you go pretending you’re an old man, Fujiki! I know I’ve shown you what my avatar looks like, multiple times!' 

The strange pretty boy sniggers, his fingers creeping round Fujiki’s arm in an almost obscene manner. ‘You hear that, Yusaku? Brave Max is too clever for you.’

Then, throwing Shima a look of delighted amusement, _he leans into Fujiki _as though his neck is suddenly comprised of jelly, the curls exploding round his face at the collision of his head against Fujiki’s shoulder, while his eyes smother sparks of laughter. And Shima damn near walks into someone with a unicorn avatar at the sight. Because really, it should be illegal to be that pretty.

Of course, it’s at this moment that he catches sight of the green diamond glowing on that inviting neck, littered as it is with curls and _oh._ **Oh**. Shima knows what’s going on here!

‘I didn’t know you had a SOLtiS,’ he says. ‘Weird. I didn’t know they could be programmed to be that affectionate.’ Then he flinches at the sharp, almost ugly look the android throws him.

His classmate doesn’t so much as blink. ‘He’s very high quality,’ he says blandly, giving a slight, quelling glare down at said android. ‘Unfortunately, I think the programming has a few flaws. Makes him too clingy.’

Shima hesitates. It really isn’t his business, but if Fujiki’s calling that thing a ‘he’ then the guy’s in deep and...and...

Now, Shima isn’t one to judge or draw conclusions, of course not! But if Fujiki isn’t kicking this guy to the curb for being all touchy-feely and linking arms with him as though they’re a cutesy couple, then it means something, right? After all, SOLtiS don’t program themselves. Someone must have programmed this thing to look…the way that it does. And someone must also have programmed it to _act _the way it does, as though Fujiki’s a piece of furniture it wants to drape itself over.

Which means…Fujiki _wants_ this thing to act the way it does. And that’s…that’s really sad. Fujiki must have been more desperate than he thought.

‘Um, Fujiki?’ he asks carefully. ‘I know they’re really life-like and can have an actual conversation with you…but it’s not very healthy, you know, to treat it as a substitute for an actual relationship. I mean there’s…’ Shima cringes at what’s he’s about to say. And that outraged glare the SOLtiS is throwing him isn’t doing wonders for his nerves either.

‘Well, people are using the SOLtiS to do _all _kind of things with. And I mean, it’s not very fair to them, right? They’re not really programmed for it, the legal ones anyway…and I’m not saying you’re one of them!’ he says hurriedly waving his hands in front of him. Though is it a slight comfort to see the SOLtiS is now giving him a speculative look rather than an outright glare. ‘It’s just, if you really wanted to, you could get your own boyfriend, no problem!’ he gives a by this point rather bewildered Fujiki a giant thumbs up. Then thinks about it and rather hurriedly adds, ‘or a girlfriend! Whatever you like! You don’t have to design one for yourself.’

Just maybe, he thinks, learn to keep your meaner comments to yourself. But unlike Fujiki, he’s a nice person so he keeps that scrap of advice to himself. At least until Fujiki comes crawling to him in the future for advice after scaring all his prospective dating partners away with the sharpness of his tongue.

The SOLtiS by this point seems to have developed an interesting facial tick. It removes its head from Fujiki’s shoulder, unwinds its arm from the other’s and bend over, hands now rigidly grasping its knees as it shakes violently.

Shima crouches down, hand outstretched. ‘I…is it okay?’

‘_He’s_ fine,’ Fujiki says brusquely and Shima winces. Yikes. Fujiki’s worse off than he thought.

And then a dry chuckle rolls out of the android in front of him. Then another. And another. Louder and faster, they scatter into the air, breaking out into peals of hysterical laughter, before the android seems to flop over like a puppet with all its strings cut.

Shima blinks. ‘Never heard one laugh like that before, either,’ he mutters, and some reason he sees panic flitter into Fujiki’s expression. Or what looks like panic. It’s just for a second, but it makes those green, green eyes (the same colour as Playmaker’s, now that he thinks about it and, wow, Fujiki’s _lucky_) widen briefly, before they slot back into their usual shape. Well, no. They've became harsher, actively glaring out at the SOLtiS.

‘Ai,’ he says tightly, and Shima blinks. 

Because, wow, that’s a cutesy name. Also kinda boring, if it’s been named that for being an artificial intelligence, but then, Fujiki doesn’t strike him as a guy with a lot of imagination in the first place. Although, he’s never had Fujiki pegged as someone who would create a boyfriend for himself either.

Fortunately, lame name or not, the sound of the word ‘Ai’ does seem to make some sort of difference, because while the SOLtiS still trembles slightly, like an actual human, it does pull itself back to its full height. And then lift its head, grin wild and filled with pure unadulterated (and programmed, Shima reminds himself) glee. 

‘Hooooh,’ it purrs. ‘You can’t write comedy this good! Thanks! I needed that!’ It elbows Fujiki in the side with a gentle sneer attached to its face. ‘You hear that, Yusaku? I’m an unhealthy choice for you!’

‘I already knew that,’ Fujiki states plainly, without missing a beat. And, over the android’s howls of ‘so cold!’ he gives Shima a strangely warm look. ‘I appreciate the concern,’ he says. ‘But Ai’s a lot more wilful, than you might expect. Trust me. No one is making him do anything untoward.’

Shima frowns. ‘You called it ‘Ai,’ he states doubtfully. ‘Fujiki…that name…’

Fujiki has the grace to look slightly embarrassed at that. Or at least a little bit more stiff than usual. ‘It’s too late to change it now,’ he mutters.

‘Thaaaats right,’ ‘Ai’ sings out, re-warping his arm round Fujiki’s. ‘But not to worry, my precious Yusaku. I’ll forgive you. What else can a poor, specifically designed SOLtiS do?’

Shima stares at the android, a strange, nagging sense of doubt yanking at him. ‘I’ve never seen one with that sort of personality wired into it,’ he marvels. ‘It’s so…real. Really well done. Who on earth did you find to design such a thing?’

‘Uh-uh-uh,’ says Ai smoothly, waggling a finger at Shima, close enough to his nose for Shima to follow it and become cross-eyed. ‘My programming, and every single line of coding it contains, is for Yusaku-chan’s eyes only, isn’t that right?’

It turns with a beaming smile all so it can flounce into Fujiki’s personal space even more, running both hands up and down the arm it has successfully captured, and locking that perfectly programmed chin even more firmly over a human shoulder once again. ‘It’s not something I can let simply anyone have a gander at. Unless you feel up for a threesome?’ he throws this last question out to Shima, letting two, half shut eyes glimmer up at him with an odd inhuman glow.

Shima sputters and backs away nervously, abruptly reminded of that sleeping dragon he could never beat in an old ‘Wizarding Wonder’ RPG. ‘No…no, I’m good thanks. I’m, err, not into that.’

Fujiki sighs, rapping Ai on the head with a gentle fist. ‘Behave,’ he tells him sternly, his voice cutting out through the wail of protest his SOLtiS gives at the action. ‘Or I’ll find something for you to really cry about.’

Oh god, Shima really hopes that isn’t Fujiki’s version of a dirty joke. He peers into those blank eyes with suspicion, but as usual, Fujiki gives away nothing. ‘Right…’ he says. ‘Well…if you need anything…’

‘Sure,’ Fujiki cuts in, oddly mild-mannered for once. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

Shima stumbles away, feeling oddly outwitted. But before he does so, he could swear he hears that SOLtiS, _Ai_ murmur to Fujiki, ‘see,_ see_, I told you to design another avatar! ‘I don’t want any unnecessary attention,’ you said and ‘it’ll be fine, I only need five minutes.’ Call yourself an elite hacker, honestly…’

‘Be quiet.’

Shima shakes his head. Such strange nonsense! Still. It almost makes a poetic amount of sense. It figures that Fujiki would be more comfortable snuggling up to an AI than an actual person. Well. Each to their own, eh? He’s given Fujiki the truth, plain and simple.

It is, after all, the sort of thing his soulmate Playmaker would do for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Fujiki is there the next day in class, book-bag slumped against his knee. He stares straight ahead like a newly activated SOLtiS, even as Shima makes the effort to wave and say, ‘Fujiki!’ in a bright and cheerful manner, you know like a normal friend does.

Fujiki’s eyes flick to him, but all he does is give a quiet, simple nod in return. Like the abnormal friend he is.

Shima pouts and tells himself that hey, at least Fujiki is actively _responding_ now. A year ago, he would have been indistinguishable from a stone wall, his eyes steadily cutting past Shima and the bulk of his body, even when Shima had so clearly forced it in front of his face to get an answer from him. Which is often a hard and thankless task.

Luckily, Shima doesn't give up easily! He even rolls his shoulders slightly as he gears up for today's battle.

‘So what does Ai do all day?’ he asks, thumping his own book-bag into the space next to Fujiki’s legs and determinedly ignoring the slight frown that passes over his friend’s face at the question. ‘Like, do you make him do housework and stuff? Is he even programmed for that?’ He pauses. ‘Or do you have to keep him charged up or in sleep mode or something?’

For some reason that last question provokes a small grimace to tighten across the features of Fujiki’s face. ‘Ai doesn’t sleep,’ he says. ‘He’s like a toddler; only he doesn’t get tired, unfortunately.’ Now there’s a spike to the line of his mouth, a sharp one that draws it down sharply. He looks almost sad, Shima thinks. ‘And while I’ve never seen him pick up a duster or vacuum, I assume he finds some way to do his part, otherwise I’d be choking on dust. But I’ve never told him to do anything like that.’

Shima stares at him, mouth gaping slightly.

Fujiki raises an eyebrow in return. But he might as well have spat out a harsh ‘what?’ instead, like any other student here would have, and perhaps in his own surly Fujiki Yusaku way, he has.

‘Uuuuh,’ states Shima eloquently ‘This is unusual. You opening up to me and actually talking about stuff, I mean.’

The line of Fujiki’s shoulder rises slightly. Then he looks away. Almost as though he’s embarrassed.

Shima stares at him harder. But…

_‘No,’ he can picture Playmaker saying, surrounded by flowers, his lashes long and thick. ‘Don’t overdo it, partner. You have to let him come to you. The same way you have always come to me.’_

Shima sighs, a healthy flush to his cheeks.

Well…if Playmaker thinks so…he smiles and digs out his tattered notebook.

‘So hey, did any of that junk about that inventor guy the teacher was talking about last week make any sense to you? Because man, when I looked at the questions, it was like he was writing in binary code instead of proper words. Secret hacker stuff.’

Fujiki shifts slightly. Just enough for part of his face to slide back into view, the line of his ear firmly fixed in his direction. Or at least Shima hopes so.

But as he continues to babble on, he’s almost sure, certain in fact, that the tense curve of Fujiki’s shoulder relaxes under the taunt lines of his school jacket. And they’re definitely looking a lot more loose, slack enough to form shallow pools of material in-between each ruffle by the time the teacher strolls into the room. So Shima ends up counting this one-sided conversation as a win.

\--------------------------

For a while, things remain normal. Fujiki continues to act like robot, both in and out of class, and while it’s on the tip of Shima’s tongue to needle him about Ai, for some reason he doesn’t. Maybe it’s the way Fujiki tenses, for one awful second the next day, when someone moans about how the SOLtiS are depriving ‘real’ people of jobs and how they should all be thrown into the scrap heap as a result. Or maybe, it’s just that Shima doesn’t want to be a jerk, especially since Fujiki has got that part down pat anyway.

_Especially_ when Shima urges him to change his avatar.

‘C’mon on Fujikiiiiii!!’ he whines. ‘It’s just a n00b move!!! People will take one look at you and make fun of you.’

Fujiki shrugs. ‘Why should I care?’ he says simply, in that annoying tone of voice that somehow always manages make Shima’s concerns sound petty and trival. ‘It’s not like they know me.’

‘But they could,’ Shima says feverishly, rubbing his hands together as he gets assaulted by nightmares of someone doxing Fujki because they think a student is an easy mark. ‘You never know what might piss people off. And you out there in our uniform, without even changing your face…I know you’re new to this kinda stuff, but trust me, you never know who could be watching. There are all kinds of creeps out there.’

There is a faint snort from Fujiki’s slightly battered-looking Duel-Disk and Fujiki stiffens and sends one piercing glare down at it, before he turns back to Shima. ‘You have a point,’ he says, through there’s a strange disbelieving look on his face. As though he’s not quite sure how he’s gotten dragged into this conversation. ‘There are all sorts of people online who could make my life difficult out here, outside the VRAINS. I’ll be more careful in the future.’

There’s an outright titter at the last part and Shima stares down curiously at the Duel-Disk, as what looks like a giant eye flashes out of view. ‘Did you get some kind of fancy upgrade for that thing?’ he asks doubtfully. ‘I didn’t know they could handle having an AI system in there.’

‘It’s buggy,’ Fujiki says calmly. ‘And really doesn’t stand up well to your common anti-virus. I should think about getting it fixed.’

Okay Shima, really _isn’t_ imaging that angry, narrowed slant of an eye that flares across the display there.

‘That’s what I’m always saying, Fujiki!’ he says. ‘You need to upgrade your style!’ He points at his own far superior Duel-Disk with a wink.

Fujiki stares pointedly out of a window. ‘Too late,’ he says, before an amused look steals across his expression, making the green in his eyes appear somewhat lighter. Or maybe that’s just the sun crawling out from behind a cloud behind the glass. ‘Unfortunately, I've gotten too attached to it.’

Shima gives up.

Either way, by this point, enough time has passed for him to relax, to drive pretty boy Ai extraordinaire out of his mind and worry over Fujiki and his complacency instead. And so he finds himself woefully unprepared that very afternoon, caught out in fact, on the brown stool of his favourite café as he scrolls through the news feed, when life, naturally decides to upset his status quo and re-iron out his latest fantasies. 

_‘Hiiiii~.’_

Shima blinks, spine uncurling from the seat he’s slumped in and glances round. Only to freeze.

Because...there **it** is. Gold eyes, thick hair, curling just so, and all with a slanting smirk that causes his stomach to leap up and down and hammer on his heart…

Ai is here, right next to him, I repeat, _right next to him, _causally leaning it’s weight against the table at the same slinky angle an idol in a photo-shoot would be proud of. Shima swallows and determinedly fastens his gaze onto the familiar green glow imprisoned on Ai’s neck, the diamond shape cutting harshly into his vision and helpfully reminding him that this is definitely an ‘it’ and not a ‘he.’ Even if the skin around it, in stark contrast to that jagged glow, is _so_ much nicer than Shima’s own and _so_ perfectly offset by the warm orange glow of the café lights overhead that it is a little _too_ tempting to forget.

Shima hates himself a little and drags his eyes down, away from Mr Not-Real to stare at the blue glow that’s currently nestled inside his tablet. And yet the words down there swim before him, mocking him as they refuse to stay still and let themselves be read.

Shima hears a huff. ‘Honestly,’ he hears Ai say. ‘And to think I took time out of my busy schedule to come see _you_ especially. And this is the greeting I get?’

Shima feels that same prickle of awareness he gets when his Mom tries to creep up on him in his room and so he glances up, the rustle of Ai’s cape resounding in his ears as the SOLtiS tilts its head to the side and hooks a heel under one of the legs of Shima’s stool to yank it closer. Dangerously closer. And that smirk, that smirk Shima will never ogle again, _nope, not him,_ grows, widens, and becomes a near grin as Shima fumbles and almost drops his tablet in alarm.

‘Damn!’ he settles on finally, rescuing his tablet and near-slamming it (but gently! Gently!) onto the table in front of him. ‘Did Fujiki program you to be that creepy?’ He casts an eye down on that super dramatic cape that flourishes out to drape the body beside him and a good chuck of_ both_ their stools with a solid line of black. ‘I can’t believe Fujiki’s making you wear something like that in public. In the network, yeah, I can understand. But out here? Always thought he was too much of a reserved, stuffy killjoy for that.’

Ai pouts. Actually pouts. ‘C’mon, don’t be like that! It’s cool, cool!’ It seizes a piece of it and shakes it at Shima as though this will somehow make it so. Then it pauses, straightens, and a flash of humour enters those eyes, causing the pout to unfurl into a sharp smile again. ‘Wait, did you call Yusaku a killjoy? A _stuffy_ one? Oooooh, that’s just too good!’

And suddenly it’s a little hard to see Ai as an ‘it’, not when he brings his hands up to hover just below that perfect face, fingers curled as he fidgets on his stool like an excitable child in a pose Shima has only ever seen anime high school girls strike up. Honestly, it’s one of the most ridiculous things he’s seen, even more so when you consider that it was Fujiki who arranged for these mannerisms to be a part of the personality of this thing.

‘I like your style, Shima! You can see the obvious!’

But…there may well be a slight hint of mockery in that last sentence, and so Shima narrows his eyes at it.

‘I guess that’s proof all right that Fujiki programmed you,’ he mutters. ‘He_ would_ give you a mean streak to match.’

The SOLtiS gives him a sly look. ‘Oh? You believe he programmed me? I thought he was a complete _noob,_ incapable of even figuring out how to change his avatar?’

Shima frowns, wondering if Fujiki has rattled on about their conversations in the classroom at home. ‘He is!’ he exclaims. ‘I meant, well, you can request things to be programmed into a SOLtiS when you get one, right? He seems the type to be fussy and over-particular about it.’

Ai hums. ‘I give you a four out of ten for that observation,’ he says finally and Shima glares at him.

‘Why are you even here?’ he asks waspishly, cradling his tablet against his chest – he doesn’t want to risk dropping it again, after all. ‘I mean, shouldn’t you be getting on with whatever it is Fujiki asked you do today?’

But Ai just grins at him. ‘Don’t you worry about that!’ he says breezily. ‘Everything I’m _programmed_ to do is in Yusaku’s best interests. And I’m _programmed_ to make him happy; what SOLtiS isn’t?’ He gives Shima a slow, smouldering smile and nervous, Shima leans back, far enough for the stool beneath him to give an unsettling creak.

‘In fact…’ Fujiki’s stupidly handsome SOLtiS continues, leaning forwards, into the space Shima has just vacated, as those fingers slide across the table leisurely. And urgh, he’s too close, _faaaar too close_, and _wow,_ **_why_** can Shima see every thick black stroke of his eyelashes, because that is some really well-done high definition hard light projection there and _urgh_, this is all Fujiki’s fault!

Ai hovers there, his smile turning a little malicious as Shima squeaks, legs practically wind-milling beneath the stool in a struggle to keep his balance. Then the bastard leans in a little closer. Close enough for Shima’s breath to dance across his face.

Shima shoves himself back dramatically, all the red ‘danger’ signs flashing in his brain, only to feel nothing but air beneath his frightened spine…and then Ai’s hand curls itself roughly into his shirt, hoisting him upright with one easy pull as though he’s nothing more than a misbehaving child.

‘Careful!’ he says cheerfully, and yet somehow, the tone feels a little off. ‘I wouldn’t want my _master’s_ friend to get hurt.’

Shima freezes. Because this. This is big.

‘You consider me Fujiki’s friend?’ he asks cautiously. Because while, yes, he does consider himself Fujiki’s friend, sort of, Fujiki…has never, like, invited him anywhere outside of school and never really makes much time for him. It’s up to Shima to initiate _everything_, and well, it’s a little disheartening sometimes. But if this AI considers him a friend to Fujiki that it means Fujiki directly told him to acknowledge Shima as such.

Ai smiles mysteriously. But doesn’t answer. Damn. Fujiki obviously has a weird mis-mash of types that’s he’s had bundled into the personality of this thing. Everything from dangerous, bad-boy seductor, to over-excitable, squeeing man-child, as well as a splash of the classic aloof cold vampire as well. Geez.

But that doesn’t matter right now. So Shima preens and resettles himself on the stool, not even minding when Ai drags his hand away.

‘Anyway,’ the SOLtiS continues, eyeing Shima as though pink flowers have just sprouted out of his hair – and Shima sure feels it, if the smile he can feel stretched across his own face is anything to go by. ‘I was running calculations, the way us AI do, and it occurred to me that maybe, you being his friend and all, I should get your opinion on how to make Yusaku even happier.’

Shima puffs out his chest. ‘Of course!’ he booms out, rich confidence in his tone. ‘No one knows how to lift Fujiki’s spirits better than I.’

But internally he’s screaming, panic dribbling into his every thought. _No, no, no, _they go, _I’ve never seen Fujiki so much as smile at me, his expression never changes when I tell him my jokes, he’s got no sense of humour, he doesn’t like duelling as much as I do, so what do I know about keeping him happy!_

Still. It’s not in him to turn away anyone who asks for his help! Even if it’s not strictly a person doing the asking.

But Ai is already beaming at him like he’s promised to help him complete an RPG multi-player quest. ‘Oh! You’re such a good friend! Yusaku sure is lucky to have you!’ Then the cheer is rapidly wiped from his expression and he brings out a small tablet, practically a mobile-phoned sized of his own. ‘Being an AI, I have limits when it comes to understanding humans,’ he says seriously, and Shima blinks as the SOLtiS taps the screen, a wider hologram of the screen and the text popping up above it’s tiny LCD. ‘So I’ve been researching just what they look for in romantic relationships.’

Shima gnaws at his lip, suddenly a little uncomfortable with the subject matter.

‘Wouldn’t you be better off just asking Fujiki what he wants from you?’ he asks hesitantly, blanching as he reads some airy forum post on the screen Ai’s brought up, one titled ‘how to know if he loves you.’

Ai rolls his eyes. ‘He’s a close-lipped idiot. He wants to be loved, but he’s not very honest about it. You try showing affection to someone who doesn’t always know how to respond to it.’

Despite himself, and despite knowing that Ai is nothing more than a machine, Shima finds himself nodding sympathetically. Because boy, he can relate.

‘But look!’ Ai says insistently, poking a finger at some sentences hovering in front of them. ‘Look at these! It’s all, ‘he makes me coffee in the mornings,’ and ‘he creeps on my preddit account.’ Oh, and here’s my favourite, ‘he helps me cook!’ Ai throws his hand sup dramatically. ‘Yusaku! Cook? Ha! Microwave, yes. But cook? Hah!’

Shima glances over the sentences, feeling a stab of irration at the way Ai starts wailing about how Yusaku doesn’t care enough to try and stalk him via his social media history.

‘Why are you focusing on those ones?’ he asks. ‘I mean, can’t you look at that ones saying how they like to be smiled at and how they can just tell they’re loved, when their partner makes time for them?’ He hesitates. ‘Have you…’ he starts and then he pauses some more. Because, really he shouldn’t be encouraging this.

Ai looks at him, eye narrowed. ‘What?’ he asks. ‘Spill, spill!’

Shima sighs. It’s not healthy, but maybe this weird thing with Ai will help Fujiki one day step outside of himself and try a relationship with a _real _person one day. Like...a practise run! Yeah, that's it!

‘You know,’ he says carefully. ‘Have you actually told him you care about him? Humans like that.’

Ai stares at him, eyes wide. Then contempt flashes across his expression. ‘Of course, I have, a million times! Better than that, even! I give him the big, ultra important ‘I love yous! But he never says it back!’

Ah, Shima thinks. Maybe there _is _hope for Fujiki after all.

‘Do you know how frustrating it is, telling someone you adore them, and then they just…don’t take you seriously! I know he cares, I _know _it, but just once, I’ll like him to acknowledge it properly, you know by actually using his mouth and proper human _words,_ the way people do on television all the time!’

You know, if Shima didn’t know better, he would think Ai was pumping him for advice for himself, rather than trying to help Yusaku.

‘Wow,’ he says. ‘You’re really pulling out all the stops for this uh, relationship, huh?’

Ai tosses his hair back dramatically. ‘You said you’d never seen a SOLtiS quite like me before, right?’ he murmurs. ‘One that acts so…human. Is it really that impossible that Yusaku could fall for me?’

Shima blinks. The look Ai is giving him now, below tousled curls, his head slanted to one side so they fall just _so_, in a tangled weave of black, the gold glinting at the ends like stray glimmers from a red-hot fire is…well. _Well. _Or maybe he’s just hooked by the weird colour of those eyes pulling him in, daubed by the light above into a heady honey hue. Either way, all Shima can now think is if Ai had been human, Fujiki would be lucky. Very, very lucky.

He swallows. Hard. ‘I don’t think that would be much of a hard thing for anyone to do,’ he says slowly, wincing as Ai gives him a knowing smile and practically _preens_ at the compliment. ‘But last time I checked, Fujiki doesn’t really go with the flow.’ He screws up his face, nose wrinkling. ‘In fact, I can’t picture him in a relationship like_ that._’ He waves a hand at Ai, hoping he’ll get it. ‘I can’t even picture him on a date, and when I try, it’s just him sitting there with I dunno-’

‘A stony faced-look on his face, so expressionless you’d think he was the SOLtiS?’ Ai breaks in with a wry grin. ‘Yeeeah, I get that. But hey, you’re his _friend_, you know there’s more to him than that.’

Shima gives him an uncomfortable look, fingers dancing nervously over his tablet. ‘I just…most people wouldn’t find a date like that too pleasant.’ He sighs. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘I get that you’re programmed a certain way. But do you think it’s going to do Fujiki any good to be, you know, in love with…’ he trails off uncomfortably, fingers drumming harder on his tablet in agitation. Because what’s the matter with him? It’s not like Ai, this thing in front of him has any feelings to hurt.

‘What?’ Ai asks slowly, ponderously, a hint of steel creeping into his tone as his eyes narrow, just enough to appear menacing. ‘Something that can’t love him back, you mean?’

Shima flinches. But Ai just sniggers. ‘You really are a good guy, huh?’ The look he gives Shima is fond, almost patronising, the sort of thing you’d throw a loyal dog. ‘But lookie!’

And abruptly, he straightens, thrusting his hand out with a dramatic flourish beneath the projected hologram of his tiny tablet. And instantly, the floating square reshapes itself in the air, tilting into a vertical rectangle instead of a flat surface like a table. Soft blue quickly sweeps out to overtake the projected screen entirely, pink unfurling, then cream flesh and green eyes, bursting into life to reveal Fujiki’s face. And Shima finds himself staring at it, hard enough to ignore the odd glowing flicker in Ai’s eyes. And then he stares some more. Because here, in this photograph, Fujiki is _smiling._

And not just any smile. It’s a soft one, small and sure, that makes the happiness there actually creep into his eyes and turn them into something other than the green flint they usually are.

Nobody, thinks Shima, can mistake Fujiki for a robot in this shot.

‘This is something I picked out directly from my memories,’ Ai tells him, watching him carefully. ‘And guess who caused that rare, practically extinct smile to appear on his dour face?’ He slams a finger into his puffed-out chest. ‘Me.’ 

Shima stares at him. ‘Okay,’ he says finally, fighting down the odd twinge of jealously he feels. ‘Yeah. If you can get Fujiki to look like that, yeah, I’m in. Definitely.’

After all. Ai is a SOLtiS. And they can’t lie. Right? Not like humans who excel at doing so, even to themselves.

Because dimly, it’s occurred to Shima that he can’t quite fool himself into thinking of Ai as an ‘it,’ not anymore. And that at some point, this idea of Ai as a thing has drifted away, out of sight, with every emotion crossing that stupidly-good looking face. And no matter how hard he tries, it feels wrong to restart.

‘Now,’ says Ai, a twisted leer to his face, and abruptly every good thing Shima feels about him flies out of sight. ‘Show me your deck!’

Shima blinks. And despite himself, finds himself drawing out his cards, and letting Ai leaf through them all with abrupt, almost abrasive strokes of his fingers. And then regretting it as Ai’s expression sours and he starts to pull faces.

‘Pah! What’s the point of this monster? It doesn’t gel with this one at all!’

Shima grimaces, digging his hands against his knees as Ai suddenly mumbles, almost innocently ‘oh, I guess this one’s passable.’ And then proceeds to scatter an embarrassing amount of his cards over the table.

‘Hey, hey! Watch it!’ Shima sweeps the carelessly spilt cards up against his chest protectively, glowering at a thoroughly unrepentant Ai.

‘Too many monsters,’ Ai had said shortly. ‘You need more spells and traps. Or you’re always going to get too many terrible hands on your first turn, with no easy way to rectify it, or defend your side of the field against your opponent.’ 

And it’s true; Shima has always struggled with pushing enough trap cards and spell cards into his deck, being a little too fond of overloading it with monsters. He understands their value, it’s just knowing which monsters cards he should sacrifice instead has always been a problem.

And then Ai instantly pulls some more cards out of nowhere, like a magician, maybe even out of his sleeve, and pushes them over to Shima. ‘Here. Professor Ai is going to teach you how to utilise these beauties.’

Shima stares at them. ‘Aren’t these Yusaku’s?’ he asks doubtfully, not wanting to steal, not if Yusaku didn’t know.

Ai snorts. ‘Please. I can get cards without his permission. Now;' and here he had grinned, strong and fierce. ‘Let’s train you up on how to use them.’

Shima stares at Ai, and the twinkle in his eyes, and suddenly feels very afraid.

\--------------------------

And thus, the next few days are hell on Earth. And it must be bad, because Fujiki stares at him a little too intently when he stumbles into the classroom each morning, the strap of his book-bag trailing from the limp grip of his hand. The stare worsens, becoming actively worried as Shima walks into the desk no less than two times, causing pens to roll and slide off the table before he manages to drop down clumsily into his seat.

'Are you alright?' the other boy asks him, wariness lurking in every line of his face.

Shima stares at him, pictures the manic gleam in Ai's eyes and the way Shima's lifepoints embarrassingly slam down into zero before them each and every time. Still though. He has to admit, he's starting to last a little longer than he used to in their fights.

'Uh,' he says. 'Yeah. Nothing gets me, Brave Max, down!' In a show of confidence he starts searching though his bag, his hands rapidly becoming frantic and his expresion morphing into full-blown panic as the seconds pass and his fingers manage to grasp nothing. 'Ah! My textbook, my textbook, where is it! I'm in a pinch!'

And Fujiki, without turning his gaze away, rather pointedly drags his own copy across the table so they can share without so much as a sigh.

'Oh! Fujiki!' Shima brightens. 'Thank you!'

'You should go to bed earlier tonight,' Fujiki tells him firmly. 'I won't share with you tomorrow.'

'Eh? What's with that?!? You're so mean.'

Fujiki's expression doesn't move. And Shima wonders, half-despairingly, why is even bothering to help such a guy.

Because Playmaker would, he tells himself firmly. And tries to quieten the voice inside that tells him otherwise.

\--------------------------

And then one, bright awful day, after Shima struggles and struggles, and manages to fend Ai off for more than seven minutes, Ai smiles at him, almost _nicely,_ and says, ‘oh-hoh, Shima, what's this? Looks like you've finally levelled up.'

\--------------------------

The truth is, Shima does not know how he got himself into this. His palms are sweating, and he can barely concentrate in class; the letters, no, the shapes the teacher scrawls across the board, blur before his eyes in tangled zigzags of black, more similar to paint muddied by water than anything that resembles actual writing. He barely gets through it, before finally, finally class is over and he has the opportunity to turn to Fujiki and hiss, ‘hey, hey!’

Fujiki doesn’t so much as pause as he shoves his notebook into his bag, but then again he doesn’t immediately walk off after he’s done so either; and in Fujiki’s silent body language that clearly means ‘please continue.’

‘I know you hate duelling!’ Shima immediately bursts out and regrets it as it only causes Fujiki’s eyebrow to rise. ‘And I know you don’t like doing favours for other people,’ he hurriedly continues. ‘You always say ‘no’ when I ask you for stuff anyway…’

‘Because it’s usually something that could put you in danger or attract the wrong sort of attention to you,’ Fujiki deadpans, not looking sorry in the slightest.

Shima flares up at once. ‘Oi! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help Playmaker! It can’t be easy for the guy to shoulder all the burdens of fighting the Hanoi and stuff! I mean I know he had teammates like Soul Burner and Blue Maiden, but, but, still!’

A complicated grimace crosses Fujiki’s face at that and is that Shima’s imagination or did his hand clutch a little tighter at his back-strap. Huh. Weird.

‘Okay, okay, look, I know you don’t like hanging out in Link Vrains either, but they’re doing a promotional like mini-tournament where you can win a day out with a SOLtiS! I think people who own one are lending them out to those who can’t afford them as a prize, and…and err, I remember what your one looks like and I distinctly saw his face on the advertisement banners last time I was there…’

Outwardly there’s no real sign of shock on Fujiki. But he straightens immediately, eyes boring into Shima’s own. And wow, okay, Shima is once again reminded how similar they are in both shape and colour to Playmaker. Really, Fujiki could cosplay as him easily.

‘Ai?’ The word pops out of Fujiki’s mouth in a rush, and yep, okay, there is definitely a strong hint of shock in the tone. ‘You saw Ai?’

Shima winces.

_‘Come oooon…’_ he remembered Ai pushing at him with a wheedling tone. _‘I’m a SOLtiS, which means I need a human’s registration ID to offer myself up as a prize. Let me borrow yours! It’s not like I can hack into the system and steal one…’_

And Shima had shivered at the look in his eyes, the strange, dancing fey-like gleam in them that promised mischief and fun. And wondered what Fujiki would say. But then Ai had leaned in close, too close and breathed out, ‘and you’ll get to see Yusaku duel, _you_ may even get to duel him, and wouldn’t that be something, hmm?’

And oh, fireworks had leapt across Shima’s brain at that. How could he resist? Fujiki has an awful deck sure, he’ll probably be way too easy to beat, but hey, maybe for once, for _once_, they could finally connect over something Shima loved?

Deep breaths, Shima, he tells himself now. Just think; what would your soulmate Playmaker do?

‘Um,’ he hears himself say, as if in a dream, ‘I thought it was weird. I mean, you hate duelling right? So I couldn’t think why you would offer him up like that, unless someone hacked you, or I guess, h-him?’

Fujiki stares at him, some strange calculation running behind his eyes. And for a moment Shima is uncomfortably reminded of Ai.

‘I’m not bothered,’ his friend states finally. ‘Ai’s quite advanced for a SOLtiS. This is just some fun game he’s devised for himself.’

‘Ah-ha..’ Shima trails off miserably remembering the next part of the plan.

_‘Now,’ Ai had told him. ‘Yusaku’s going to be a typical icy-hearted bastard and act like he doesn’t care what kind of pervert gets a hold of me. He’ll think I’ll wiggle my way out, SO-’ and here he had slammed his hands down on Shima’s shoulders. ‘You’re gonna have to raise the stakes, okay? Or at least force Yusaku to think about them.’ Then he smiled winningly. ‘Good luck!’_

And now locked into a quasi-promise, Shima glances at Fujiki, winces and pushes out, almost hesitantly: ‘So…does that mean you won’t mind if I win him?’

Fujiki honestly looks completely perplexed. For a moment. Then he grimaces. ‘You don’t know what you’re signing up for.’

‘Weeelll,’ Shima wheedles, sweating bullets. ‘He _is_ pretty.’

Fujiki shoots him a quick, sharp look at that. ‘…You really don’t know what you’re signing up for,’ he states again, though his tone is a little off this time round. ‘You…you like Ai?’

And he sounds astounded, like the thought has never really occurred to him before.

Shima shrugs. ‘Not just me. He’s not as popular as the female-looking SOLtiS obviously, but I’ve seen the commentary on his, ah, _specs _last night.’

‘Ai has a VRAINS forum thread devoted to him?’ Yusaku asks, now resembling a slightly dead-eyed fish. ‘He’s never going to shut up about it.’

‘I mean, he’s yours, obviously’ Shima hastily cuts in, ‘so if I do win, I’m not going to do anything real bad to him, yeah? But I dunno, it might be fun just to…’

Shima trails off. Not only because he’s realising that he’s starting to sound like a real creep, when really, he has no intention of screwing around with Ai like that but…because…because Fujiki is wearing that odd frown again as though he’s not sure how to respond. As though he’s disturbed. ‘You like Ai more than the female SOLtiS?’ he asks, and Shima is strangely gratified to hear the cautious tinge his voice has taken. Because who knew? Fujiki _can _actually _attempt _to be tackful for once!

Shima shrugs. ‘I just like what I like,’ he states, not sure how to elaborate on this.

But Fujiki has stiffened slightly, his gaze a little cooler than usually as he runs it over Shima. As though he’s assessing him, like he’s a threat.

‘Hey, I’m not the bad guy here!’ Shima squawks ignoring the stab of guilt in his gut. ‘You should have seen some of the stuff that got written about him last night! I am really not the person to worry about!’

Fujiki’s gaze, if at all possible, becomes even colder. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says finally. ‘I’m not.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember: Ai is a lying liar who lies. But maybe not about everything. Too bad Shima doesn't know that though.
> 
> Also, thank you guys for the prior comments, letting me know the first chapter was actually funny and didn't fall flat on it's face. This chapter and the last are quite long, so the humour may not be as evident, or be clouded over by the slim barely-there plot. So it may well be that you don't find the rest of this fic as interesting as the sunburst of the first chapter. Ah, well. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> I just like Shima far more than I should. So why not give him a chance to...I dunno, step out?


	3. Chapter 3

The ‘tournament’ for lack of a better term takes place that Saturday morning. Shima of course, is all decked up and ready to go, feeling comforted by the additional height his Brave Max avatar gifts him with. Though he is still anxious enough to scan the heads of the small crowd that have gathered, torn between wanting Fujiki to show up without a suitable avatar so he can easily recognise him, and the other choice of not being able to spot him because his friend has, _for once_, taken his advice and reinvented himself in here. Still, it's a relief tons of people aren't here, though perhaps, he thinks nervously, there are enough here to matter.

The SOLtiS meanwhile, are arranged on little podiums of varying height, marble-like cuts of purple displayed beneath their feet. Each pillar is heavily stamped with stylised lines running up and down their sides in parody of the ancient Greeks or Romans, with a cloud-like formation of faux-marble bubbling at their base as though they’ve sprouted out of water with extreme force. They glimmer and glint, as though with the same glitter of light the real-world sunlight often throws over smooth rock, a similar pattern emerging at the top of each pillar as the top curls over the sides, and just like foam, it scatters as though breaking off the tip of an ocean wave.

Shima can’t help but make a face at the presentation though; they’ve been arranged in tiers, like layers of wedding cake, with Ai for some reason perched right at the top of the highest one. And while it's not outrageously tall, (the top being just high enough to be level with the tips of Playmaker's hair, if he was in the Vrains), it's still...a bit much. Then again, it’s not like any of the SOLtiS particularly care. They’re all smiles and waves, producing each motion with delicate and thoroughly motorised curls of their wrists. Except for Ai, of course, who turns his waves into large, enthusiastic sweeps of his arms, as though he wants to swat the rest of them out of sight. His grin as well, is several times larger than the other SOLtiS and he wears it proudly, making it, if at all possible, even wider once he spots Brave Max in the crowd.

Shima half-heartedly gives him a slight wave in return, relieved as Ai’s gaze immediately wanders away and becomes fastened on another spot on the crowd. And then it becomes downright predatory.

Shima hears someone beside him swear at the sight, and really, he can’t blame them. Stomach dropping, he lets his own gaze wander to where Ai’s is resting and feels the same resulting stone in his gut land with a distinctive mental ‘thud’. For there Fujiki is, and yes, _okay,_ so he’s not in his school uniform this time round, and his hair is no longer stuck in its familiar streaks of blue and pink…but still, those calmer strands of purple and red do _nothing_ to disguise his face. And he’s making no effort to change those green eyes which are now harshly glaring back at Ai like he wants to slam a fist into the other’s face. Even his arms are folded in the same surly fashion Shima is used to.

Grimly, Shima heaves his way through the crowd. ‘Fujiki!’ he hisses urgently. ‘Come on, this is a _tournament_, some people might remember your face if they see you outside the net!’

Fujiki shrugs. ‘You could say the same about Ai,’ he points out. ‘He’s got a fairly unique appearance. And he spends a fair amount of time around me in the real world. There’s no point in disguising myself once I’ve dragged him back home.’

Shima stares at him. ‘I’ve seen your deck,’ he says after a moment. ‘When you showed it off at the Duel Club. You admitted yourself it was terrible. What makes you think you’re gonna win?’

But Fujiki just goes silent and turns his gaze to the side.

Shima puffs out his cheeks. ‘Fine! Be that way! But don’t come crying to me when you lose!’

Ai meanwhile, is leaning forward eagerly, hands clasped together like he’s witnessing something particularly touching. He’s almost vibrating with excitement. ‘Fighting over me already?’ he exclaims. ‘Ah! No! Don’t do it! I’m not worth all this suffering.’ He slings a hand against his forehead dramatically, the sleeve practically pasted to his skin as he pretends to swoon.

Fujiki’s gaze immediately whips back to Ai’s again, and resettles itself back into a familiar glare.

But that just makes Ai swoon even more at the sight, practically bent in half. ‘Oooooh, I can’t take it when you glare at me that way. All _harsh_ and _commanding_. Won’t someone please save me from such a cruel master?’

A girl (at least Shima thinks they’re a girl) giggles at the sight. And Shima just kinda wants to go home now, please. Except…except he made a promise. Sort of. So instead of curling up into a ball of nerves, he leans over to Fujiki and tries to ignore the various dramatic contortions Ai’s forcing his body through.

‘Just _who_ did you get to program him this way?’ he hisses to his friend.

But Fujiki just grimaces. And continues to glare. ‘Who knows,’ he mutters after a surly second or two, as though realising that Shima’s question probably isn’t a hypothetical one.

Shima closes his eyes, counts to two, and then forces a slightly uncomfortable smile on his face. ‘What’s your avatar’s name anyway?’ he asks Fujiki, hoping to prompt a slightest friendlier response.

Fujiki continues to glare at Ai. ‘Unknown n00b 075,’ he recites carelessly, though his tone make sit clear that he considers the question unimportant.

Shima stares at him, incredulous. ‘You can’t pick that as your name! That’s so lame! You’re what, wanting to announce yourself as a bad player!?!’

Fujiki shrugs. ‘Yes,’ he says, as though that decides the matter, and Shima gives up. He really does. A hundred years could go by and Fujiki will be the same inept anti-technological jerk as always.

There’s a sharp clapping sound and Shima straightens, all as Ai finishes slapping his palms together, apparently having recovered from his swooning session. ‘Okay, everyone!’ the SOLtiS calls and Shima spares a thought as to why exactly, this machine is in charge, when Ai changes tactics and drapes his cape over his arm in parody of a waiter carrying a napkin. And then takes one long, smooth bow. ‘It’s time to have some fun!’ he calls, his voice bright and eager and in total contrast with his polite action.

And as though on cue, fireworks pop up from behind him, their fluorescent-like spill of colour erupting behind his head as though he’s the centre of the universe, with their scattering sparks only serving to perfectly halo his curls. Trumpets sound from somewhere, and then a huge banner unrolls from the podium Ai is on.

‘FIRST PRIZE!!!’ it announces in excited red font. And then smaller banners pop up on the other podiums announcing ‘Second’ and ‘Third’ prize in smaller texts of green and blue, while one, rather rudely, unrolls to reveal the word ‘Consolation Prize’ in a syrupy font of yellow. Shima glances at the SOLtiS it’s displayed under because he doesn’t think it looks that bad, personally. Well, okay, so it kind of looks like Revolver, that creepy leader of the Knights of Hanoi, what with the blank yellow eyes and ridiculously spiky hair. But…that’s it, really.

‘Brave Max!’

Shima straightens, as he finds himself stuck in the path of Ai’s excited gaze. And Ai grins at him, brightly as he flings his cape off his arm with a careless gesture.

‘You’re up!’

He crooks a finger at someone in the crowd. ‘It’s the hacker of hearts! The lady who plays fools and draws money from them like they’re an ATM! The sly puppeteer: Ghost Girl!’

Shima’s head whips round as a very familiar silhouette slides free of the crowd, who are all clapping as if they know her. She laughs, and Shima gapes at her, this beautiful woman who he was so uncool in front of once, the duelist he lost so miserably too. But she pays no attention to him as she glances up at Ai, a sharp look in her eyes as she asks, ‘’Sly puppeteer?’ My, my, how rude! Should _you _really be throwing out accusations like that Ai-chan?’

Ai grins and leans forward, nursing his chin in his hand. ‘Why not? You still use Altergeists don’t you? I’m pretty sure one of them was a marionette last time I checked. Suits your personality juuust fine.’

‘Mmm…’ her eyelids lower slightly as she gives Ai a suitably coy look. ‘It’s a pity that pretty face of yours hides just a rude personality. You won’t win any points with the girls you know.’

Ai sniffs, closing one eye as he looks down at her imperiously. ‘Sorry, but you’re not my type. And it’s not like we’re running a dating simulator here. We came here to watch some actual _duelling_.’ He grins and begins pumping his fist. ‘**Duel!** **Duel!’** He chants, encouraging the rest of the crowd to join in with each roll of his excited fist.

Ghost Girl sighs as the crowd responds and starts to pick up the cheer. ‘Alright,’ she says, holding up both her hands in surrender. ‘If that’s how you want to play it…’

She turns, and as though she’s just spotted Shima, gives a start, and then a long, slow smile, sweet as honey, spreads across her face beneath her mask. Or at least Shima thinks it does. ‘_My_,’ she trills, ‘if it isn’t Playmaker's best friend again! Ah, no, sorry, soul-mate, wasn’t it? Please don’t go too hard on me!’

Shima grits his teeth. Is she making fun of him? But then suddenly Fujiki is there, stepping out in front of him as though to protect him, the line of his mouth thin and firm.

‘Ghost Girl, what are you doing here?’

She shrugs, a careless look swimming over her expression as she closes her eyes. ‘Huh? What do you mean? I just thought it would be fun to spend a nice day out with Ai here, and maybe get a look at his unique programming and test out some things with him…’

Ai immediately shrieks and crosses his arms in front of his chest in the shape of a cross. ‘Denied! You’re a pervert! I don’t just give up my secrets to anyone, you know!’ He spins round to Fujiki, fake tears bubbling up in his eyes. ‘You or Brave Max better win this! You can’t let her do _this-’ _he jerks his whole body erratically to one side_-_ ‘and _that-’ _he jerks erratically to the other side, as though being torn in separate directions_\- ‘_with me!’

Fujiki ignores him. ‘You really think he’s is going to be so careless as to let you look him over?’ he asks Ghost Girl pointedly. ‘You know better than most what Ai’s capable of. Don’t get dragged up into his pace.’

She gives another careless shrug. ‘What I do is my business,’ she replies mysteriously and Fujiki’s eyes narrow.

‘Good luck, Brave Max,’ he says, stepping back.

Shima laughs nervously. And feels his stomach promptly twist itself into a knot as Ghost Girl stands before him, her hand on her hip as it thrusts itself out to one side. It reminds him of that day in the cafe, of Ai sorting through his cards and making a bunch of rude faces at them.

…or maybe it’s just that he can feel Ai’s sharp yellow glare on the side of his head, now, effectively pinning him into place like a butterfly nailed onto the wall of some naturalist exhibition. For some reason this forces him to concentrate anew.

Thoughts running through his head at ninety miles an hour, Shima stumbles onto the field that’s been set up for them, neat mosaics of purple and green dragons drawn up beneath his feet in a whirl of pixels that run out over this sunlit plaza in a sweep of cool white data. Ghost Girl raises a brow at this, stomping a heel gently into the snout of one, before lifting her unimpressed gaze to Ai.

‘Your taste is as tacky as ever, Ai,’ she sings over to him sweetly, prompting Ai to shake a fist at her.

‘Oi! I don’t want to hear that from someone who purposefully carries around a bunch of ugly cards with her to con unsuspecting people with!’

‘She’s right though,’ Fujiki states plainly, causing AI to turn an outraged glare on him.

‘Get on with the duel!’ someone from the crowd calls, sounding rather annoyed, and Ai’s expression smoothes out with frightening ease.

‘Yes, yes! That’s the spirit! We can’t let all these spectators down!’ His gaze switches from Shima to Ghost Girl, then back to Fujiki. He raises his hand than slides it down through the hair, the chopping motion as smooth as an arrow. ‘Begin!’

Ghost Girl whirls round, with a wink. ‘Ladies first!’ she calls out, and Shima watches as an Altergeist bursts onto the field, the dull carapace of its body glinting with a metallic sheen. He barely even pays attention to the name but…this time, with Ai’s gaze digging into him, clawing its way inside his mind, he remembers to look at the field and see the brown backs of the two cards Ghost Girl has set face down.

And as it happens, his opening hand has cards than can do more than summon monsters.

‘I activate Twin Twister!’ he calls out, sending out a silent apology to one of his baboons as he discards it in order to activate the spell card. And just like that, Ghost Girl’s field is clear of any pesky traps.

She blinks at him. ‘Oh?’ She asks ‘you’ve gotten more cautious since the last time we played? Well, suits me fine…’

And it does. No matter how he comes at her, she has monsters she can summon from her hand in a pinch. Though he is pleased to see the slight twist of frustration in her brow when he activates Red Reboot to prevent her from springing any trap cards on him the next time he attacks. Unfortunately for her, her deck is rather dependant on them. Or at least runs a lot smoother when no one is blocking her usage of them.

And of course, he has a secret weapon…

Another card Ai forced him to take, and it springs into life, as he meets the necessary requirements to summon it, hunched over and growling, leaves trailing from its body in place of fur. Plus, he remembers to actually read the effects on the card before carelessly attacking.

He gives Ai a quick glance only to see the AI is busy giving Yusaku a shit-eating grin.

‘Another new Cyberse card?’ Fujiki growls out in response. ‘Why are you getting him involved in this?’

Ai shakes his head, offers up a mocking pout. ‘Aw, jealous that I’m creating cards for somebody other than yourself? You don’t get to monopolise my talents you know.’ Then he narrows his eyes. ‘Go for it, Brave Max!’ he calls out. ‘Show your friend here your true power!’

What a line! What a fantastic, awe-inspiring line! Shima clenches his fist, stars dancing in his eyes, because how can he back down from a sentiment like that! So he ignores Fujiki's rather judgemental eyes and opens his mouth. And calls out the words that will send Ghost Girl’s life-points spiralling down into zero.

Ghost Girl is blown back, paving stones ripped away beneath her feet, and as the dust settles, there’s a shocked silence. Ghost Girl stares up at him, from her position on the ground. Her mouth is still covered by her mask, but if it weren’t, Shima wonders if he would see it open in a small wondering gasp. He knows his is. Because…he’s done it. He’s won. Without Playmaker having to charge in and save him.

He must look so cool right now!

‘See!’ he hears Ai crow in the background. ‘You can do it if you try!’

Shima nods, and straightens, mouth snapping shut so it can re-launch itself into a grin that blazes its way across his face. ‘Hey…hey, Miss!' he calls over to Ghost Girl, who is now busy giving Ai a slightly cross look. 'I was cooler this time round, right?’

Ghost Girl blinks at him. Manages a nod, as she clambers to her feet. ‘Yes,’ she says after a moment. ‘Though you must tell me what you did to butter Ai up like that! He doesn’t give out cards to anyone.’ She casts a quizzical look towards Fujiki, who stares back at her hard, but gives nothing else away. Almost rolling her eyes, she turns her curious look to Ai.

Who has called up a pale pink fan out of nowhere and is busy hiding the line of his mouth behind it. ‘Well,' his voice says, from behind said fan. '_He’s_ never tried to delete or sell me, so he’s got that going for him at least.’

At that, for some reason, Ghost Girl looks rather sheepish. ‘Ah,’ she says. ‘Right for the jugular. You got me there.’

Shima doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about. It’s all he can do to stumble over to the podium where Ai is, not sure where else to go. He feels light, buoyed up with a strange sort of happiness that curls into his stomach, but it still doesn’t feel real. Because he won. He actually won.

‘Well done,’ Ai tells him, voice low and thick and sweet, causing his stomach to flutter in a way that doesn’t really surprise him anymore. ‘Now: you ready to see how our cute 'Anon n00b 075' plays, hmm?’

Shima glances up to see Fujiki, arms crossed, staring at them both. He looks angry. Well. Angrier than usual. But then he’s always been a little hard to read. But he still takes his place at one side of the field without protest. And nothing causes his expression to change, not a flicker running over his features, as after his opponent’s turn, he brings out a small yellow dollop of a monster called Pikari.

Shima’s mouth twitches. Is that…is that a witch’s hat perched on it’s head? It’s kinda cute.

But above him, there’s a hiss of breath, as though Ai doesn’t agree. An angry one. Harsh and downright seething, it presses out into the virtual air like a steam whistle.

But all this is lost on Shima as he watches Fujiki play. As he sees Fujiki standing there, feet locked on the ground as though he _belongs_ here, slamming down cards with barely a glance at them as he shaves off his opponents life-points with each new summon or spell, all while using a variety of attributes. They're monsters Shima’s never heard of before, all of them gleaming with those colours of purple, yellow, green, blue, red…and Shima stares because Fujiki is good, actually _good._ So lost is he in this spectcule that he doesn’t notice the slight creak of noise that drifts down when Ai’s fingers dig in, clutching to the curling rim of the podium he is seated to as though to hold himself back. He does jump though, as he hears it _crack._

He glances up. Pales. And nearly faints at the sheer rage he can see emulating from those golden eyes above, narrowed into glare that promises retribution, the pink fan now vanished out of sight.

Then he jumps some more, frantically shoving down the scream he can feel building up in his throat as Ai growls out, low and heavy, like a thunderstorm above him: ‘Unknown n00b 075, you’re definitely going to be unknown by the time I’m through with you!’

Fujiki’s eyes flick to the side. They narrow. But his mouth does not so much as smirk.

‘Huh,’ says Shima, glancing up at Ai nervously; because right now, the SOLtiS’ expression is so sharp you could run a knife against it and come away with nothing. ‘I’ve never seen a deck like that before.’

‘And you never will,’ Ai mutters back, eyes refusing to tear away from the shape of Fujiki on the field. ‘That is a deeply, personal deck, one that’s not up for grabs and now he dares…’ he trails off, eyes sharpening as Fujiki’s opponent’s life-points drift down into zero.

And without sparing the other guy so much as a glance, Fujiki turns on his heel and stalks over to Ai.

‘You have no right to complain,’ he states evenly. ‘You went to the trouble of making a physical copy of this deck and then left it for me to find.’

Ai flares up, as the onlookers start to mutter and Shima blinks as one of them gives off an odd flicker. Almost like they’re glitching.

‘I did not!’ Ai shouts out, stamping his foot with all the righteous fury a child would give off. ‘You know what that deck is to me, what it means! It's not something you should use on a whim! The network could easily go down one day, someone crazy could build another Tower of Hanoi and then what? It just disappears, as though it never were?!? NO! So I printed it out and showed you and _I trusted you,_’ he hisses, eyes narrowed and Shima stares entranced. ‘I _trusted _you and kept it where you used to keep Roboppi because you’re the one human who should use it, if anything ever happens to me. _Again_.’

Now there are louder mutters running through the small crowd, disgruntled ones shaking through the atmosphere like the beginning of an earthquake.

‘Did that anon guy steal someone’s deck?’

‘No, dummy, it’s a SOLtiS, remember? Since when can they own stuff?’

‘This is weird, man.’

Fujiki’s eyes flicker to them, glare refusing to soften. And Ai laughs. Maliciously.

‘Ooooh, careful now, Unknown n00b 075…all these fine people will think you're a thief, or just a complete weirdo.’

‘So?’ Fujiki states blankly. ‘They don’t know me. And they don’t know you.’ He stares at Ai levelly. ‘And they never will, right?’

Ai’s glare hardens as someone steps out of the crowd.

‘What’s to know?’ that same someone asks semi-loudly, green hair zigzagging over their forehead. ‘It’s an AI. It just---‘ and here a bright burst of static arises from their mouth as well as a yellow exclamation point, causing someone to chuckle.

‘Someone can’t hack their parental controls!’ they sing-song.

The offending green-haired avatar glares at them. ‘You know what I was getting at. It’s like a less annoying girlfriend that isn’t too tired or cranky to do what you want. I mean, I know it’s a guy, but at least it’s not an ugly guy. And the eyelashes are pretty girly. Why else are some of us here?’

Ai wrinkles his noise. ‘My eyelashes are better than any girl’s,’ he sneers and for one startling moment, Shima is seized with the thought that Fujiki wants to drop his head in his hands. Instead, he simply steps up to the podium and reaches out a hand.

‘Ai, I don’t know what this is,’ he says, a slight edge to his voice. ‘But we both know you’re not going to auction yourself off.’

‘Oh,’ says Ai, narrowing his eyes at Yusaku’s outstretched hand. ‘Does that mean you think you can’t win me back? Even with MY deck that you’ve stolen?’

Okay, wow, Shima hasn’t seen Fujiki this stirred up in like…ever. Because a few more wrinkles appear on his brow, and his voice, when it emerges out of his mouth, is angry and twisted with genuine frustration.

**‘Ai!’**

Ai just gives him a mocking look. ‘You always do this. Say my name, repeatedly, like it's a magic spell. Well, sorry, but today it's not going to work.’ He crosses his arms, pulling back from Fujiki’s hand.

Shima closes his eyes. They’re veering dangerously off-script. ‘Oi, Fuj-I mean Unknown n00b 07...3?'

'Five,' Fujiki correctly with barely a side-glance, as Ai sniggers into his hand. Only to stop as Shima mutters, 'you're both hopeless.'

They both frown at him. Not in a particularly mean or aggravated way but still, a frown is a frown, and Shima cringes slightly.

‘Though it’s your fault for asking for such a fussy AI, Fujiki’ he says pointedly, ignoring Ai’s squeals of, ‘Eh! I just have standards! _Standards!’_

Ignoring this, Shima pounds a fist into his palm. ‘How about this!’ he says brightly. ‘Ai was registered under my identification number. Sooo…I’ll withdraw him from the tournament as a prize and we can duel for him, properly!’

Fujiki stops. Stares. Honestly, Shima was expecting him to be angry at him for lying. Even Ai is staring at him.

‘The winner,’ says Shima, then stops to take a breath. ‘The winner gets a date with Ai. A proper one. Like going to a cinema or an arcade or something. You know, date places. And they have to treat Ai like it’s a real one. You know, asking how he’s doing, say if he’s attractive…’ Shima flounders since he himself, despite his criticism of Fujiki, has never actually been on a date. But look, his mum’s a big fan of shoujo manga, she’s a got a big bookcase of it that he grew up reading, and so Shima _thinks_ he gets the gist of it. So he takes another breath and pushes out the final, fateful words. ‘…and they have to be honest. About how they feel for him.’

Fujiki is staring at him, more wide-eyed than Shima has ever seen him be before. It’s actually kind of amazing. But Ai, on the other hand, is leaning forward expectantly, an excited gleam in his eyes.

‘Brave Max! Nice!’ he exclaims.

But Fujiki just continues to stare. ‘This…you want Ai that badly?’ He looks perplexed, as though not sure what to do with this information.

Shima sighs. ‘Whoever programmed Ai made him want to be wanted,’ he said. ‘If you can’t give him that, send him back to them. Re-program him. Because if you can’t give him what he’s programmed to need…that’s cruel Fujiki.’

‘This is such b&(*^&*’ the green-haired avatar nearby mutters.

Fujiki is shaking his head. ‘He’s pulled you into another of his schemes. I know you don’t understand, but-’

Shima strides up to him, sticks his finger in his face, and fights hard to keep his knees from knocking together as everybody stares at him. ‘You're the one who's just not getting it, Fujiki! You may like him, and he gets that, but maybe he wants you to say it. You know, like an actual person! Just...' he runs out of steam, fumbles, then he has a flash of inspiration and spits out: 'maybe just be a man, and give him a proper answer all those times when he tells you he loves you!’

And then he stops, because suddenly there is a crack in the mask that is Fujiki Yusaku and a real, cold sort of terror is busy sweeping its way across his face. And both he and Ai immediately stiffen at the sight. Because...because Shima doesn’t get it, but he can tell something important is happening because Fujiki is staring at Ai, almost as though he’s drinking him up, like Ai is suddenly without warning, going to vanish.

‘I…’ he says. ‘I…’ and then he looks hurt and terribly frustrated.

But Ai just looks at him. And then abruptly softens. ‘Oi,’ he says quietly. ‘I don’t plan on disappearing this time, Yusaku. No death-bed confessions today.’

For a moment more, there is a vibrant sort of silence between them. And then a massive surge of motion runs through the crowd, zigzagging through their legs and causing bright blue cracks of light to appear on their arms, cracks which snake their way up to pull their face apart, stretching out those unlucky features into a bulbous mush. Or at least most of them.

Shima promptly lets out a small scream at the sight and throws his hands up into the air as Ghost Girl starts tentatively poking someone dressed up as a teddy-bear. The beady button eyes of the avatar stretch out like liquorice sticks at her touch to wiggle around like antenna. ‘It’s alright!’ she calls after a moment. ‘They’ve just been forced to log out. And their images are lagging behind and distorting for some reason.’

Ai meanwhile, stands up as though nothing at all is going wrong, and people’s avatars aren’t going haywire, and then sulkily bounds down from the podium. A holographic screen flares up in front of him as he lands, and humming, he erases the lines of symbols that briefly flash across it. Instantly, all the glitching spectators zoom out of view.

‘Game over,’ he intones dully. Then he turns to Shima with a big smile. ‘Weeeeeellll thank you for fighting for my honour, but it’s pretty much a lost cause.’

Shima opens and closes his mouth.

‘Really,’ says Ai. ‘It was nice of you to try but I should have known Mr Ice-Cold here didn’t want to play the part. And maybe I was a bit too cruel this time but-’

He’s cut off as Fujiki grabs his arm and spins him round. ‘Ai,’ he says, something urgent in his tone. ‘What have you been talking to Brave Max about?’

Ai sighs. ‘A lot of lies,’ he says rolling his shoulder slightly. ‘But some good hard truths as well.’ He smiles at Fujiki, but the look on his face is sad. ‘I do that, you know. Occasionally. Sometimes.’

‘Ai…’

Shima shifts from one foot to another. They’re staring at each other, their shapes cut crisply against the background of grey buildings and purple podiums as though their figures have been lifted straight out of the pages of his mother’s manga, and the way they’re looking at each other, well, it’s just like a dramatic scene drawn out in a double-spread feature for the final chapter.

‘Sorry,’ says Ai, still looking terribly sad and still,_ still_ so stupidly pretty as he does so. ‘But I mean it, you know. When I say I love you. And know I say it too much and sometimes I say it like a joke. Because…well. You don't really say it back that often. It's like I'm trying to unlock an ultra-special event from a game.’

Fujiki looks like he wants to snarl. Instead his other hand digs into one of Ai’s fancy puffy, purple sleeves and he seems to hesitate, caught in the middle of a big decision. And then abruptly, his face locks itself down into a determined expression and he pushes himself up, as his mouth, in one swift bite of movement, shoves itself viciously into Ai’s. Ai's hands immediately fly up, his fingers clambering over the shoulders in Fujiki's skin-tight suit, before sliding down to rest against his partner's chest as though he's in prayer, and then he seems to give way, to press himself into Fujiki like clay. Fujiki remains taunt and tight, the back of him rigid, like he wants to cage Ai in and Shima fidgets, well aware that Fujiki probably isn't too happy about this developing into a spectator sport.

‘Oh my.’ Ghost Girl waves a hand in front of her concealed mouth as though she’s shocked or appalled. But above the gesture, her eyes are twinkling. ‘What a shock! I didn’t expect to see this sort of scene set outside of a doujinshi.’

Shima stares. At the way Ai seems to melt even further, curling into the pinch of Fujiki’s fingers on his shoulders like a snake anxiously slithering out of its hole. And then Shima looks away quickly. Because _noooow _they’re making noises. Well, actually Ai’s the one making noise, too much of it, because that moan, right there, that _has_ to be fake.

‘Hello, hello?’ Ghost Girl chirps up suddenly, clapping her hands together then tilting her face to the side, as though to present herself in a typical cutesy pose. ‘Can I still expect payment?’

Fujiki chooses this moment to pull back, an odd look to his eyes as he draws away. A knowing one.

‘_That’s_ why you’re really here,’ he murmurs. ‘I just hope it’s not coming out of my account.’

He casts an expectant eye on his partner, but Ai is too busy flushing to answer, pink pressed into his cheeks as though he’s the shoujo lead that managed to stumble their way into the affections of the bishie prince of werewolves or whatever.

‘I…’ he starts. Then he shivers out back into his full height: ‘Ooooooh, Unknown n000000b 075,’ his voice begins to croon, horribly playful in a way that has Fujiki immediately tensing. ‘To think you would do it in front of an audience!’ He gestures to a gawping Shima, and then after a moment, like an afterthought, to Ghost Girl. ‘I never thought you would have such a bold streak! You’re usually so private!’

Fujiki just stares at him, his gaze wooden once again.

‘Buuut, I’ll take it!’ Ai exclaims, pulling at his partner’s collar excitedly, almost like an overeager child. ‘I know you’re uncomfortable displaying affection openly, and dating probably isn’t really your thing. But if you can kiss me in front of Brave Max here, that you care enough to do in spite of your shyness. You couldn’t do it if you didn’t mean it!’

The wood in Fujiki’s gaze softens slightly. Then – amazingly- he lifts his hand and lets it slide up against Ai’s cheek, cupping that excited face and stroking that busy jaw with his thumb.

Ai’s mouth snaps shut.

‘Ai,’ says Fujiki Yusaku. ‘Meet me at Shiba Park tomorrow. Four o’clock. Don’t be late.’ Then he steps back, hand trailing through the air a little reluctantly. His eyes flicker to Shima a little apologetically. Then they shift back to Ai, his fist clenching at his side. ‘I love you,’ he says firmly, a decisive note in his voice; though he still sounds almost angry about it. And then there’s a blue whizz of static surrounding his shape, stealing him from view as he logs out.

Ai stares at the space where he was. ‘Sneaky,’ he says after a moment. ‘Leaving me to clean up…though I suppose it _is_ my mess…’

Ghost Girl coughs. Delicately.

Ai frowns. ‘Fine, fine.’ He waves his hand in annoyance. ‘The money’s in your account; and don’t worry, it’s not Yusaku’s.’ He narrows his eyes at her questioning look. ‘Relax; they won’t miss it.’

Shima immediately covers his ears, because lalalalala, he is not hearing this, nope, not him, not an eavesdropper to any sort of crime,_ no no no!_

‘Nice doing business with you, Ai-chan,’ Ghost Girl murmurs. ‘Maybe one day I’ll even get to look at your progr-’

But Ai turns to her with such a menacing, close-eyed smile that she laughs and log outs without saying anything more.

He turns back to Shima who is already cringing in preparation. But all Ai does in return is open his eyes and smile. But this time, there’s a much softer sort of happiness to it.

\--------------------------

‘I lied,’ says Ai to almost every question Shima asks. He waves a hand when Shima asks about the guy Fujiki battled. ‘Real enough; I engineering the duelling aspect of it, because I’m a fantastic multi-tasker and I grabbed recorded audio from a competition involving SOLtiS up for grabs a while back. And I’m a pretty advanced AI, you know? So It’s easy for me to add new words in, rewrite and edit the lines.’ He grins, sure and sharp. ‘I could write a great play, I bet.’

So Shima stares at him, feeling frightened all of a sudden of how this AI has engineered this stupid stunt, sent web-links and screenshots of billboards, and fake forum threads to Shima, possibly Fujiki too. At how he’s built fake people, or rebuilt memories of them to act as a crowd.

‘So…my duel with Ghost Girl, that was real?’ he asks after a moment. And Ai smiles at him. Rubs his chin with his hand like a villain.

‘Hmm. That was all you two, yes. And me, of course. You had my excellent coaching skills to thank for your victory. And I figured since you wanted to help me so bad, I could do you a favour in return. It felt good right? Getting your revenge and beating someone who beat you before? Too bad she wasn’t nice enough to turn up for free though…I guess she still hasn't forgiven me for gobbling her and her brother up that time.’

Shima blinks. 'What?' he asks in a small voice, but Ai is already turning away, flapping a hand about as though to say 'don't worry about it.'

'Don't worry about it,' Ai promptly says. ‘But no, to finish answering your question, there were other real people there. Low level players, too stupid to realise anything significant.' He narrows his eyes. 'It's not a good idea for me to make waves on the network. Some people might actually get an idea of my true capabilities and try and about steal me away.' He pauses, and this time just looks wistful, 'I wanted to see Yusaku jealous. Just once! He’s too secure in the fact that he knows that as soon as any other human sees this-’ he points to the diamond on his neck – ‘nobody is going to take my feelings seriously. And it shocked me, him using a physical copy of my deck. And I lost control when you stepped in and starting telling him off.’ He gives Shima a slightly amused look. ‘Way to live up your name, Brave Max.’

Shima stares at him some more. ‘You’re really not like other AI, are you?’ he asks after a moment. ‘You’re like a proper person. A real one. And I’m not going to ask who programmed you because…I’m guessing you and Fujiki want to keep it under wraps, yeah?’

Ai gives him a calculating look and Shima shivers, feeling as though he’s being assessed like a piece of meat. Then abruptly that feelings of dread lifts as Ai smiles, and says oh so charmingly; ‘oh well, I’m undeniably special, yes. But don’t let your imagination run wild.’ He laughs but there’s still a pang of sadness to his voice as he mentions, almost offhand. ‘AI have their limits, after all.’

\--------------------------

It’s wrong he knows. But the next day Shima finds himself at Shiba Park. He sits at a bench, wondering what he’s doing here, if maybe he should go home, before he forces himself to pull out his tablet. And then he gets lost in it, the minutes eaten up by a Vrains forum, and as a result, he almost misses them.

But no. There’s two flashes of black that catch his eye, on the other side of the lake. The cape is gone from Ai’s shoulders for once, and Fujiki is wearing a really lame undecorated hoodie. But Ai is busy tugging at Fujiki as though that doesn’t matter, pointing at a flowerbed for some reason and chatting away animatedly. And while Shiba_ is_ too far away to make out the expression on their faces, he thinks…no, he wants to believe they’re happy. 

And later that night he gets a text message from an unknown number.

_You naughty spy! I saw you! Honestly, leaving your tablet connected to the network like that was like pushing out a giant beacon screaming, here I am! Here I am!_

A photo pops up of Fujiki, his black hoodie cutting a harsh contrast against the green of the grass. But the massive blanket of pink flowers in the background, resting perfectly against the shades of the similar tones caught in his hair, help soften the impact. It doesn't help that he’s smiling, the shape of it, the warmth of it, only increased by the sparkle in his eyes.

_Thank you for helping me keep that rare smile on his face! _Comes the message_. Seriously, maybe, if you’re lucky, and I’m not too busy, I can give you more duelling tips from your loving teacher, Ai! Trust me, I’ll get you that duel from Yusaku you want so bad. Though you might not thank me for it!_

Shima pauses. He’s not sure how to feel. But then the next school day, Fujiki stops at his desk, actually bothers to meet his eyes and pushes out a stiff ‘thank you,’ along with an inclination of his head.

And suddenly, surprisingly, it was all worthwhile.

'Thanking me, huh?' he asks smugly, smug enough to make Fujiki look suddenly wary. 'Does that mean you'll actually stop by the Duel Club for once?'

Fujiki looks like he wants to sink into the floor at the very prospect. And the cackle that resounds from his Duel-Disk, that cackle that sounds a bit like Ai, now that he thinks of it, makes him glad that he was willing to push the question out there.

'C'mon,' he wheedles. 'I thought you were _grateful_.'

Fujiki's mouth twitches. Just slightly. 'Maybe just for today,' he murmurs. 'I owe you that much. But-' he adds, holding up a finger and narrowing his eyes as Shima pumps a fist. 'That's. All.'

...Shima can work with that. After all, he's got Fujiki sussed now. Him and that pretty boyfriend both. Maybe one day he'll even get them to meet Playmaker. All three of his friends together, in the same place. That would be pretty cool.

But for now he smiles. Attempts to concentrate on his work. And secretly plans out a deck, that maybe, just maybe, might make Fujiki sit up and duel him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Ghost Girl, I have done you wrong. Still. Better you than poor Aoi.

**Author's Note:**

> This is done from Shima's perspective so unfortunately he's going to refer to Yusaku as Fujiki every. Single. Time. Sorry in advance.


End file.
